


New Shorts

by bruinsand1d22



Category: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich - Fandom, Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:56:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruinsand1d22/pseuds/bruinsand1d22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey shows up to work in a pair of running shorts, and Ian can't stop staring at his ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this reeeeeeaaaally fast, so please don't judge. Just so many feels at the moment, but enjoy!

“You staring at my ass firecrotch?”

 

Ian jumped in his chair, banging into the open cash register that he had just been pretending to sort money in. Several coins bounced to the floor, and Mickey laughed as Ian ducked down behind the counter quickly to recover them.

 

“I was, uh, just –“ Ian started, but was cut off by the jingling bells of someone entering the store. Placing the coins back in the register, Ian shuffled back onto the stool, nervous eyes meeting a smirking Mickey from across the store.

 

He had been checking out Mickey’s ass. He and the Milkovich had just lifted some new summer clothes for their families from a store the other day, making sure to get themselves something as well. As they had been leaving, Ian had slid a pair of shorts into Mickey’s bag, earning a questioning glance from the other boy.

 

“You never wear shorts,” Ian had explained quickly, turning out the door before Mickey could make some comment about how “gay” it was to pick out each other’s clothes. Ian hadn’t expected Mickey to even glance at the shorts, knew they weren’t something he would ever wear and would probably just give to a cousin or brother.

 

That’s why when Mickey entered the store a couple hours earlier sporting the new black shorts, Ian’s eyes had widened in disbelief. Mickey had paired the Nike athletic shorts with his usual beat up tanktop, stopping by the counter to reach underneath and grab his security vest.

 

Of course Mickey was acting like everything was normal. Like wearing athletic shorts was a common thing for him. Like he couldn’t feel Ian’s eyes following him around the store all morning.

 

Ian couldn’t say anything about it, didn’t want Mickey to have any reason not to wear the shorts again. So instead of jumping around the store with the childish excitement he felt at this whole situation, Ian sat back and watched. Watched the way the shorts hung off of Mickey’s hips, clinging to the muscles in his legs when he walked, stretching and displaying his ass when he would squat down to pick something up off the floor. If there hadn’t been a steady stream of people in the store, Ian was sure he would have already fucked Mickey, but instead having to stay seated behind the counter to hide any evidence of what the shorts were doing to him.

 

It wasn’t like Mickey didn’t know what he was doing to the red head either, which is what was making it worse. When Mickey had gotten home and had a chance to look at the shorts, he had scoffed at how un-Mickey they were. He never worked out, had no reason to buy anything Nike before in his life, not to mention the fact that ever since his dad had made fun of his legs when he was a kid (calling them pasty-stubs when they had made one of their rare trips to the beach) Mickey hadn’t stepped foot near a pair of shorts. But Terry was in jail, and all of Mickey’s pants had holes in them. Besides, it was mid-summer in humid Chicago, and Mickey was sick of the claustrophobic heat that stuck to his legs when he wore jeans.

 

Ian’s face had been priceless, the blown eyes and agape mouth erasing any nerves Mickey had and turning the thug into some sort of rough tease. But hey, he knew no one except Ian was paying attention to the extra time he spent moving cans on the bottom shelf, making sure to stay squatting even as his legs started to burn. 

 

When the store had been empty of customers for not even 20 seconds, Mickey could almost hear Ian’s breath picking up from behind the counter, and he knew he had to say something now before he lost his chance.

 

“You staring at my ass firecrotch?”

 

He heard Ian hit the register in surprise at Mickey’s voice, turning in time to see him nervously glancing between the scattered coins and Mickey approaching the counter. Ian was mumbling some excuse back to Mickey, his voice muffled from the clang of coins being tossed back into the register. Before he could get to the frazzled Ian, the door opened and a couple girls walked in and stopped at the magazine rack. Ian found his way back to the stool, and Mickey met his eyes, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from showing an unusual smile.

 

“I’m gunna go finish emptying those pallets,” Mickey said, his voice full of smirk as he pointed towards the back of the store where the deliverymen had dropped off new shipments earlier that morning. Ian just nodded, his eyes flickering down and back up Mickey’s body quickly.

 

One of the girls put a magazine on the counter for Ian to ring up, and Mickey turned to saunter towards the stacks of goods. In the back of the store, he started lifting the crates of fruit down to the floor, not wanting to admit to himself that it actually was easier to move around in the stupid shorts than the scratchy jeans. Focusing on trying to find reasons that he shouldn’t, no _couldn’t_ wear the shorts every day from now on, Mickey missed the sound of the front door locking, not hearing the quick steps of Ian coming up behind him until he was being grabbed on the waist and shoulder.

 

“The fuck,” Mickey started, his voice being cut off as he was pressed roughly into the stacks of boxes he was trying to unload.

 

Ian’s breath was hot on his neck, his arms wrapped tightly around Mickey’s front, and when he stepped into Mickey so that his hips were flush against Mickey’s ass, the shorter man’s grunts turned breathless.

 

“You’re fucking hot Mick,” Ian breathed into Mickey’s hair, bringing his lips down to start nipping at Mickey’s ear, his grip around Mickey’s middle tightening.

 

“Fuck off Gallagher,” Mickey mumbled, making no move to wiggle out of Ian’s grasp.

 

“I didn’t think you’d wear them,” Ian continued, his mouth moving to the side of Mickey’s neck where he stopped to bite and lick at a spot he had left last night, its tenderness causing shivers to run through the brunette.

 

“They’re just shorts ass ho –“ Mickey words were cut short by Ian’s hand wrapping around his dick over the new shorts. He failed to hold in the moan that arose when Ian ran his thumb lightly over the tip, the accompanying kisses on his throat showing Ian’s approval of the noise.

 

“Yeah, well,” Ian started, rubbing his hand slowly up Mickey’s cock, keeping the rest of the Milkovich’s body pressed tightly against the crates. “You should wear them more often.” And with that, Ian started rubbing Mickey’s dick harder, thrusting his crotch into Mickey’s ass in time with his tight grip.

 

Mickey moaned loudly now, the nylon material of the shorts against his hard cock a new sensation, one that he definitely wanted to feel more of. “Fuck Gallagher,” Mickey breathed out, and Ian spread his fingers more to grab at Mickey’s balls, kneading them with the same pressure that was making Mickey’s knees weak.

 

Mickey could feel himself getting close, the tingling in his stomach building. He tried to move his arms but Ian had him pinned, and he suddenly panicked at the thought that he wouldn’t be able to hold out for Ian dick inside him. “Fucking get in me Gallagher,” Mickey warned, but Ian made no move to step back, only stroked Mickey faster, making the brunette moan deep with the accompanying thrusts of his hips.

 

Then Ian started jerking his wrist, tightening his grip the way he knew made Mickey come undone. The smaller man gasped beneath him, tossing his head back on Ian’s shoulder, mouth slack as his moans filled the room, hips jerking uncontrollably into Ian’s tight grip. “Shit Ian, I’m gunna –“ but Mickey’s warnings were cut off, Ian’s mouth on his, hot wetness releasing as he shook through his high.

 

When his thrusts slowed, Mickey went slack in Ian’s arms, his breath ragged as he tried to regain his strength. Ian let Mickey turn in his arms, keeping him pressed against the crates with his hands on the older man’s hips. When Mickey finally looked up at him, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, Ian smiled and leaned in so their foreheads were resting together.

 

“Sorry,” Ian said softly, and Mickey breathed out a laugh against Ian’s lips. “You should definitely wear shorts more though.”

 

Mickey pinched Ian’s earlobe lightly before pulling his lips down to meet Mickey’s own. Yeah, he’d definitely wear the shorts again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! If you have any prompts/feedback, please comment!


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